


Romancing Mr. Anderson redux

by BinaryJayne



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cringe, Fluff, Grand Gestures, HCBB2018, HankConBigBang2018, Happy Ending, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Swearing, cavity-inducing sweetness, romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaryJayne/pseuds/BinaryJayne
Summary: Connor finds himself in love with the Lieutenant, but doesn't know how to show his newfound affection. Using advice from classic romantic comedies, the android is determined to win Hank over with grand gestures. It goes about as well as you'd expect.Part of the HankCon Big Bang 2018! Huge shoutout to DoomCheese for the glorious artwork!





	Romancing Mr. Anderson redux

**Author's Note:**

> As y'all can see from my teeny tiny account, this is the second time I've written this story. It was originally for an incredible friend of mine, but I loved the idea so much, I expanded it quite a bit to give Connor better motivation throughout the little ficlet. I'm more proud of this story than I have been with other things I've written in the past year, I guess I just needed the motivation to press on in the form of a cute and dorky android. I have some Gavin/RK900 in the works coming out soon.
> 
> This is part of the HankCon Big Bang 2018, and Oh My God, DoomCheese drew some spectacular art for this. Truly, I was in awe when they emailed me. I am so lucky to be paired up with such a talent, and you can bet that it's going to be printed and framed on my wall. You are glorious, DoomCheese! Check it out! 
> 
> https://doomcheese.tumblr.com/post/182400780796/my-art-for-the-hankcon-big-bang-2018-drawn
> 
> Now, about this story...  
> I had a hard time writing one scene in particular, and I think it's the scene ya'll are gonna cringe at the most. Fair warning, there's a lot of cringe. Connor is just... so Connor. I dunno, it's hard to explain without ruining the surprise. An extra 10pts to anyone who can suss out all of the RomComs I mention!
> 
> I don't own DBH, Big Fish, Dirty Dancing, Royal Pains, When Harry Met Sally, Bridget Jones's Diary, Jerry Maguire, You've Got Mail, and a bevy of others I'm sure I've forgotten.

Romancing Mr. Anderson (redux)

  
  


The glow of the tv and the android’s spinning LED were the only things illuminating the tiny room. The clock noted that 2 am had come and gone, but Connor remained sitting on the couch, back straight and hands on his knees, in rapt attention, same as he was half a dozen hours ago. Tonight’s movie marathon was something of a curated list, one that held the attention of the young detective. Ever since that night a few months ago, when everything changed and Connor could breathe and think for the first time, Hank had been showing him movies and tv that first aired when he was a young adult.

_ “The Golden Age of Television, Connor.”  _ he had said, beer in one hand, remote in the other. “ _ This’ll really resonate. Good shit. Jesus, I remember the first time I sat and watched this. Made me real fuckin’ happy I was a cop, ya know? I mean, it’s not the same, it’s just a show, but fuck if it wasn’t exhilarating.”  _ And just like that they watched the first season of Justified in the first week of his deviancy.

Connor still hadn’t mastered wanting yet. His expression was often still stoic, his posture stiff, and the idea of desire was so broad if Connor tried to break down what he enjoyed and why, his processors would stutter and his LED would whir a deep red until he had to perform a soft reboot. Hank always told him that’s what being human meant, trying to find meaning in the world around him.

Hank soothes Connor one day when they’re out walking Sumo. “ _ Everyone panics when they think about the ‘why’ of it all, it’s why you got yer organized religion, yer philosophy books, yer fuckin’ suicide cults and alien worshipers. We just got a leg up cuz we’ve got centuries of history and each person's got decades of being alive.”  _ The older man pats him on the back before running his hand through his shoulder length hair. “ _ Give it time. You’ve got the rest of your life to figure this shit out. Find something small that makes your processors or whatever go into only a little overdrive. Don’t think, just enjoy.” _

So that’s what Connor does. In the weeks to follow, he finds himself watching more and more movies with Hank, scooting closer on the couch by millimeters every time. It’s pleasant, Hank’s company, and he finds that his temperature increases only a few degrees when he thinks about the older man. His processors go into overdrive whenever they spend time together outside of the station. But only a little. So he tries not to think and to just enjoy. He assumes it’s good advice. He has no reason to believe otherwise.

The clock ticks passed 3 am and Connor interfaces with the TV to play a new film. He begins to play one he recalled from a conversation he had with Hank a few weeks back. 

“ _ That one is too melodramatic.”  _ He had said while he rubbed the back of his neck. “ _ I, uh, think we should watch something a little more, exciting, you know?”   _ The lieutenant's cheeks were a harsh crimson, and though Connor had wanted to inquire further, he stood by the advice he was given.  _ Don’t think, just enjoy. _

Watching it now, however, was different. Even after deviancy, he couldn’t put his inquisitive mind to rest and needed to know what made this movie turn Hank such a lovely shade of rouge. In the dead of night, the sounds of the film played softly, keeping the occupant of the small room invested in the screen.

“Oh,” Connor whispered. “This is a romantic film.” He brought his feet up to the cushions, his knees pushed up to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around his legs. The android’s temple swirled blue and yellow as he took notes and analyzed it as the minutes ticked by.

In the film, the woman opened up her window to a field full of yellow daffodils and her suitor holding a bouquet. Connor’s eyes increased in size as he drank in the scene.

“You don’t even know me.” The woman pointed out.

“I have the rest of my life to figure out.” 

Connor replayed the scene. And again. And again. Something about this seemed so familiar. His LED rotated, flashed  _ blueyellowyellowblueyellow  _ as he pulled the pieces together. 

 

_ “Don’t think, just enjoy.” _

_ Hank blushed when Connor wanted to watch a romantic movie. _

_ “You’ve got the rest of your life to figure this shit out.” _

_ “I’ve got the rest of my life to figure out.” _

Connor began breathing heavy, an attempt to cool down his system. It made perfect sense! The older detective spent all of his free time with him, was embarrassed to watch a romantic movie together, but  _ didn’t  _ object that night when he sat 5.22 millimeters closer than the previous night! Hank felt the same way as Connor did, he just didn’t know how to express his feelings. 

With no time to spare, he adjusted the lineup of movies and began taking notes, starting with replaying this one and analyzing it further. Obviously, this one resonated more with the lieutenant and required repeated viewings. When the scene comes back on, Connor scrambles to the TV, almost touching it with his nose. After it’s over, he gives a small smile and updates his mission parameters.

 

_ Hank likes flowers. _

 

~~~

 

“Oh, what the fuck is this shit?” Hank exasperates. His shoulders slouch in embarrassment at the scene before him. The bullpen became hushed as the officers watched the scene play out. The lieutenant’s face soon became a splotchy red as he realized the dozens of pairs of eyes in the large room were acutely spying on him. 

On his desk was a vase with two dozen perfectly arranged red roses. They were adorned with baby’s breath, and the clear crystal vase had a red ribbon tied around it in a neat bow. Leaning against it was a small card, no larger than a few inches wide with a message written in dainty calligraphy.

Connor shifted behind Hank. “It appears to be twenty four roses.  _ Rosa rubiginosa  _ to be exact. This is a common gift one gives a paramour, or a prospective one, Detective.” The android stated as-a-matter-of-factly. He watched Hank’s reaction go from stunned to angry.

“I fucking know that, Connor. I mean why is it here? Who is playing this fucking prank?” He snatched the card and and took a deep breath before reading it.

_ Hank, _

_ I like you very much, just as you are. _

_ Your Secret Admirer _

 

“Oh what the  _ fuck _ ” He flipped the card around, trying to look for any other clue as to the mysterious sender was. “Connor!” His harsh voice cut through the thick quiet.

Connor snapped to attention. His eyes darted from the card in the Lieutenant's hand to his face. Hank’s expression was sour. That look made his chest tighten.

“Y-yes?”

He extended the card to Connor. “Do your analysis thing. Jesus, just figure out who did this, yeah?” 

Connor grasped the folded paper and brushed his fingers with Hank’s. They were clammy, and Connor saw his breathing get a little heavier. He was angry. This was not the desired outcome. Still, Connor analyzed the card as he was told, despite knowing what he would find. 

“There are no fingerprints on the card, Hank.” Connor’s brow furrowed slightly. Hank’s face was getting redder. This was not good.

“Shit. Just, do that thing. With your tongue. Find DNA or whatever.” His fingers twirled in a rolling motion, a nervous tick. He was losing composure.

Doing what he was told once again, Connor brought the card to his lips. His tongue slowly began peeking out, its goal just millimeters away, when Hank snatched the card out of his hand with a rough motion, seemingly changing his mind. Hank mumbled something dismissive and sat down at his desk, defeated by the day already. Connor took his seat at his workstation. He had his own worries. His LED flickered yellow and he turned his head to the right to obscure his thoughts from Hank.

Why hadn’t that worked? Was it not customary to start a new romantic relationship with a gesture of flowers? Admittedly, Connor had trouble understanding how to court humans. He simply could not find the correlation between feelings of affection and rootless plants that are sure to die in a week. However, he was committed to his plan. This was nothing but a mere setback. He would have to adapt to the situation. Connor was nothing if not an excellent negotiator.

“Those roses smell nice.” Connor offered. He made sure to modulate his voice into a pleasing tone that has lowered the stress levels of his partner before. After a beat, he turned his head a few degrees to the left to gauge Hank’s reaction.

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Do you have opinions on smells?”

Connor shrugged. “Not as such. But that particular strain of roses is well known for its fragrance. My sensors detect a potent emission originating from the bouquet. Judging by their proximity to you, it is not an unpleasant emission. Do you think they smell nice, Lieutenant?” He let his eyelashes flutter a little more than usual, his brown eyes kept a careful watch on Hank’s reaction.

A few seconds passed between them in silence. Confusion and anger flash over the human’s face. Without a word, Hank stood up. He grabbed the vase roughly by the lip, and made his way over to the breakroom, his loud footfalls echoing across the bullpen. He slapped the arrangement on the table of two officers enjoying their break, and trudged back to his desk before taking his seat once again. He focused on the screen in front of him and began typing away at his report. The chair was turned at an awkward angle. Even with the slight discomfort of overreaching for his terminal, it was worth it for Hank to no longer see the nefarious bouquet. 

That was the end of that.

 

_ Hank doesn’t like flowers. _

 

The week went by with no more disruptions.  Hank seemed more on edge than usual, and Connor wasn't about to elevate his stress any further. Still, he felt his thirium pump beat faster when he saw the card still sitting open in a drawer in Hank's desk. 

 

_ Hank likes kind words.  _

 

He can work with that.

 

~~~~~

Later that night, Connor plays another half dozen movies and a few episodes of old shows at 5x the speed. Ideally he would have more time to prepare for a mission, but he was confident in his ability to adapt to human nature. The android hadn’t quite figured out where his logic went awry, but after the evidence pointing to Hank’s distaste for flowers, he was able recalibrate his parameters and focus on the mission once again.

He started with the original movie, scrutinizing the daffodil sequence once more. Hank had specifically pointed him to this moment, so where could he have adjusted to please the older man? Mentally making a note to make the next attempt bigger, more grand, he moves on.

The patterns begin displaying themselves. He cross references them with the original movie, dismissing gestures too close to the vase that had stressed his partner too much. It was not particularly challenging, the romantic comedies of his time all seemed to have relatively similar plots, with some ploys to woo being completely ridiculous. Some, however, were acceptable and marked off objective points with ease. One tv show had a man write the words “I’m Sorry” in rose petals in front of his future paramour’s window, only to be thwarted by her disapproving father. The flowers were vetoed, but it had the bones of a potentially good idea.

Connor let himself preconstruct a scenario very similar to the one on the tv screen. Hank was relaxing on a veranda, reading a book on a rocking chair, taking the occasional drink from a collins glass to beat the heat. He would saunter up from around the corner, wearing cowboy boots and a denim button down shirt. Extending an elbow, Hank would wrap his arm around it and they’d walk slowly in the southern sun to the other side of the house, where Connor would have prepared a love note. He’d watch as Hank’s lips would part and his heart would beat heavy as he read the declaration. The note would tell the lieutenant exactly how he feels and everything would be perfect. All he had to do was read it. Read the note.

A love note written with…

The preconstruction ended and Connor’s brows furrowed. How could he write a note to Hank without flowers? It was such a good preconstruction too. One that raised his core temperature and put blue in his cheeks. The hair on his neck stood up. He would have to explore that response when he has more time. If Hank wanted to move to the south, he would definitely purchase some cowboy boots. Possibly a wide brimmed hat as well.

He looked at the clock. 2:42am. Whatever the plan was, he would have to think of it fast. The detective would rouse awake fairly soon. Connor stood up, turned off the tv, and got to work.

 

~~~~~

 

The morning had started off with his uneventful routine. Connor, who was living on the older man’s couch while he searched for an apartment for himself, had left an hour ago to pick up coffee and bagels, and Hank clad himself in pj bottoms and a robe to let Sumo out. He was brushing his teeth with one hand while twisting the doorknob with the other. Sumo shot out the front door like a rocket, nearly knocking the detective off of his feet. 

“Damnit, Sumo!” he grumbled, toothpaste dripping from the side of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “you're gonna be the death of me do-” his voice trailed off into a choked whisper. Standing dumbfounded on his front porch, Hank couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The shock of it made the toothbrush slip from his fingers and onto the hard wood with a clack.

Pinwheels. There were pinwheels all over his front yard. The gentle breeze blew through them, and each one spun lazily. The tips were colored a bright blue and almost looked like an android’s LED as each of them turned. They were placed with meticulous care on his front lawn, each pinwheel pushed into the ground at the exact height as the one right next to it. Their placement was...

“Fucking hell - ?” The corner of Hank’s lip curled upwards into an uncomfortable sneer. He felt his face flush, a sudden heat rising up and painting his face an embarrassed scarlet. The pinwheels spelled out a phrase. A phrase that could be seen in clear view of his front door. A phrase meant to capture Hank’s attention the moment he stepped outside to start his day. His pupils widened in an involuntary response as he read the message.

 

_ You Complete Me _

 

Hank brought his hand up to wipe away the surprise from his face. With an uncharacteristic burst speed, he found himself stumbling off of his porch to tear the pinwheels from the dewy grass. The morning chill and the dew soaking through his pants as he sat on his knees gave a sense of urgency to this whole ridiculous situation. Hank began pulling the pinwheels. He snatched handfuls of the little paper toys, and soon the  _ Me _ had disappeared entirely and morphed into a messy pile by Hank’s knees.

The neighbors, the  _ fucking neighbors  _ could see! The street already thought he was a menace, this was just icing on the fucking insane cake that was his week. They had to be removed before the neighbors were roused from their homes by their work schedules. They had to be removed before Connor-

“Lieutenant?” The familiar voice asked quizzically somewhere off to his right. Hank paused his ministrations with a huff and turned to look at the android. Connor was standing on the sidewalk, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, and a white paper bag in the other. He stared down at the detective with a passive gaze. The LED on his temple pulsed a bright blue as he watched the lieutenant’s ministrations.  

“Someone’s playing a  _ fucking _ prank, and I’ve just about had it with this bullshit.” Hank sighed. He dropped another handful of pinwheels to growing pile, mumbling something while doing so.

Connor tilted his head and looked at the scene. The message simply said  _ You Comp,  _ but the pinwheels stacked on either side of Hank told a greater story.

“Judging by the placement of the holes left in the ground, would I be correct in theorizing that the message was  _ You Complete Me,  _ Hank?” He emphasised the detective’s name. The android’s LED spun a bright yellow, as if he had analyzed the yard like he would do at a crime scene.

“For the love of - get in the house! Don’t let the neighbors hear you say shit like that.” He pointed roughly to the front door. The older man groaned and stood up from his prone position and wiped the loose grass off of the front of his pajamas. With a slight shove to Connor’s shoulder, he ushered them both into the house. Sumo bounded in a split second before he closed the door.

Connor walked over to the table to place Hank’s breakfast on its surface. His LED was still spinning rapidly, lost in thought. The android was stiffer than usual.

Hank noticed.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice harsher than he meant. Running his fingers through his hair, the detective waited for his android to respond. He resigned himself to crossing his arms and standing in the middle of the living room. “Well? Out with it!”

Connor tore his gaze from the bagels and faced Hank. With a very calculated shrug, his said, “I think someone might have romantic feelings toward you, Hank.” 

Hank balked.

His eyes flickered down to the older man’s chest. The robe was slightly open and Connor saw thick curls of graying hair adorned his front. He wondered idly if it would feel the same as Sumo’s fur if he were to stroke Hank. His fingers twitched.

“Bullshit. I’m an old, broken down man. People don’t-” he sneered at his next word, “ _ crush  _ on men past their prime.”

“On the contrary, Hank, many people find you attractive. You are a tall, broad man with very symmetrical features.” Connor waited a moment before continuing. “In fact, analyzing various men and women you come into casual contact with have shown a large percentage of them have elevated heartbeats, dilated pupils, and have an increase in pheromone output. Hank, it is my conclusion that there are many suspects who might be crushing you.”

Hank slid a palm over his beard and wiped away an imaginary mess. Another nervous tick. “It’s crushing  _ on _ .” He huffed. “The phrase is ‘crushing on.’” Even in stressful situations, Hank never failed to correct the android who was built to be perfect.

“My apologies, lieutenant. I have adjusted my venacular to include the phrase ‘crushing on.’” Connor cocked his head to the side and analyzed his unusually quiet human.

He was stressed, but the man’s heartbeat was well within normal levels. Sweat was beginning to accumulate on his brow and under his arms, a likely symptom of his mindset. He was not as stressed with this attempt as he had been with the roses. This was progress. Very good progress. Connor was getting closer to accomplishing his goal.

“Hank,” the android began. He took a moment to choose his words carefully. “Would a potential partner be… unwelcome?”

No response. Connor probed further.

“Because studies show men in committed relationships have a longer life expectancy, as well as lowered risk of stress-induced illnesses. Having a partner to support you and stand by your side also shows an increase in prolonged happiness. It would be,” he tried to find the right words. “not unlike our partnership, just with a sexual component. Do you want more than our partnership, Hank?”

Hank’s mouth dropped open and he stood frozen to the middle of his living room. The robe was slightly more ajar now and his full chest was exposed. Connor’s hand twitched again.

“You don’t know what you said. You don’t know what yer implyin.” Hank swung his arms out in front of him in a dismissive gesture. “I forget sometimes that you’ve only been alive for a few months. Probably didn’t mean to phrase it like that.” He began to walk over to the bathroom, muttering the whole way before stepping over the threshold and closing the door softly behind him.

Connor relaxed his posture. This was not what he wanted either, but still not entirely a poor outcome. Hank did not have an angry outburst, and he reacted well to someone possibly  _ crushing on _ him. Perhaps all of the research he did to romance Hank was beginning to pay off. 

The door to the bathroom opened. Hank yelled from the room, “Hey, I’m gonna get in the shower. Think you could grab all those damned pinwheels on my lawn?”

“Yes, Hank, I would be happy to.” 

“Thanks, kid.”

Hank didn’t hate this.

 

_ Hank likes grand gestures. _

 

~~~~~~

###  " _Me? I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you_."

Connor sat motionless on the couch as he replayed the scene over and over, his LED spinning a silky yellow as he told the tv to rewind. The room was dark and quiet in the dead of night, save for the screen that played a movie about a girl falling in love with a dance instructor. It was trite, a cliche, and quite sappy, but it had the effect he was looking for. He lifted a hand and slowly placed the open palm on his chest and closed his eyes. 

He imagined it was Hank who held him and a heavy embrace as they swayed on a dance floor. The detective was beyond the days of launching his partner in the air as the music swelled, but the preconstruction of them holding each other, hands on hips and lower backs, filled Connor with a joy that would not have been possible before his deviency. 

The android imagined them moving to slow music across an empty dance floor, a lone spotlight focused on them as the tinny music played from an old speaker somewhere. There was no one else in the world. Hank would grab his hand and intertwine their fingers, Connor would rest his head on the older man’s chest…

The preconstruction left Connor breathless, his cheeks a vibrant blue. Taking a few minutes to compose himself, he let his hands once again rest motionless on his legs, palms lightly gripping his knees. He selected a new movie to watch.

An hour or so went by. The clock on the microwave blinked 3:14 am. This film was not as intense as the previous one, but he liked it all the same. Connor felt saddened at the small bookstore going out of business, but that was to be expected. He couldn’t imagine such a place being open in this day and age. After all, most companies had opted to go paperless, and a storefront was no longer required to deliver novels to the consumer. But there was still something to be said about the classics.

###  _ "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." _

He preconstructed another scenario. This time, he was meeting Hank in a park, a secret rendezvous. The lieutenant had arrived first, his hair pulled back. The love letter Connor had sent him told the man how handsome he looked in a low bun. He had shoved his hands into his fall jacket and looked around idly for his secret suitor. Hank had never been more beautiful. As the android fell in step and walked towards him, the older man turned and drank in the scene. In this moment, Connor had selected a navy blue blazer with a salmon shirt, no tie, top button undone. He wanted to look his very best for the man he adored.

Hank’s eyes filled with knowing and his confused expression gave way to a large knowing smile. They embraced, wordless, and warmth cut through the fall chill and the world faded away. Hank would pull back slightly, still gripping his forearms, look into his eyes, lean in, and…

Connor shook his head and cleared his mind. He was getting ahead of himself. Woo first, kiss later. Unless Hank knew his feelings, there would be no way the older man would press his lips against his own. As pleasant as it was to imagine admitting he was a secret admirer, he couldn’t trust Hank to not think a letter would be a prank and just not show up. No, the scenario that gave him the highest probability of success was something else.

His mind raced back to the list of things he knew about the detective. Kind words and grand gestures were key, but he had to combine them in a way that was new. He played the dancing movie again.

~~~~~~~~

 

A few days later, The pair were walking through the busy commons of downtown Detroit. It was a cool, spring day, perfect for apartment hunting. Connor had mapped out the route and was dragging along a grumpy detective, who was clutching a coffee and was slightly hungover. Normally, a day off for Hank meant boxer shorts and quality time watching basketball on his TV, but Connor had been unusually persistent in convincing the older man to accompany him.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Connor! Hell, you don’t even have to get yer own place. Just stay at mine. Sumo loves you more than me anyway. Just, slow down, Jesus.”

But Connor couldn’t. The anticipation was accumulating and it made it hard for the android to sit still. He was… anxious? Nervous? Giddy? Regardless, everything had to be in place. He had temporarily felt guilt when he had to lie to Hank to get him here. However, he couldn’t argue with the result. It had been a convincing lie, and now all Connor had to do was to get the detective in the right place for the show to begin.

“While the standing invitation is very welcoming, Lieutenant, I feel it necessary to acquire my own space. I thank you for your cooperation.” Connor stalls and turns to face Hank. This was the spot. “However, your opinion is what matters most to me. That is why we’re here, so I can show you what it means to me.” 

Hank bristled and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Where’s the building? Let’s get this over with.”

Connor frowned slightly. It seems as if Hank wasn’t getting the hint, as it were. His overt flirtation wasn’t as obvious as he had assumed. The parameters for innuendo-laden conversation would have to be adjusted for further conversation.

He reached out slowly and took the older man’s hand in his. Hank choked on his coffee and sputtered, but didn’t take his hand away.

“Lieutenant,  _ Hank,  _ you are the reason I’m here. You’ve supported me, encouraged me, and accepted me when I became deviant and didn’t know how to process. Without you, I would be lost, I wouldn’t be alive.” He remembered a particularly excellent line in one of the many films he had seen in the previous week. “ When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” The older man’s eyes bulged.

“ Hank, I have to tell you, I have to  _ show  _ you how I feel.” He lifted Hank’s hand with both of his, and placed it on his own chest. The skin of the detective’s hand was rough with age, and felt warm and wonderful against his own smooth fingers. 

“Con-” before Hank could talk to him, a woman came out from the crowd with a folding chair. She placed it behind the detective and with Connor’s gentle hand pushing down on Hank’s shoulder, his body relented and he took a seat. 

Connor leaned forward and grazed his fingertips lovingly onto Hank’s cheek. “Let me show you, Hank” he repeated.

The crowd slowed to a stop. They all turned to face the pair, their bodies frozen in various poses, waiting for their cue. Connor stepped back a few feet into the crowd and dug into his coat pocket. He pulled out a pinwheel, and as if on cue, the previously frozen people surrounding them did the same. All of the pinwheels spun with the familiar blue tips that he had seen on his front lawn. They twinkled in the sun like the LEDs they were trying to simulate.

Hank’s eyes grew wide in realization. The breath died in his lungs, and as much as he wanted to call out to Connor, his body seemed unwilling to sync with his brain. His fists gripped the edge of the chair and prepared himself for the scene before him.

With a grin so large that it looked out of place on the android’s face, he raised his empty hand over his head and snapped his fingers. From all sides, a song began blaring from hidden speakers.

_ Oh don’t you dare look back _

_ Just keep your eyes on me _

_ I said you’re holding back _

_ She said shut up and dance with me _

 

Six people jumped out of the crowd and began dancing to the upbeat tune. Kicking their legs high in the air and twirling around each other, each person moved in sync to the beat of the song and kept their pinwheels fluttering in their hands. One woman took Connor’s hand and he lifted her in a perfect arch, her legs kicked out in a jump split, and she landed and spun to face her new partner. More dancers began joining in, dancing in time with one another and all of the focus was turned towards Connor and Hank.

 

_ We were victims of the night _

_ The chemical, physical, kryptonite _

_ Helpless to the bass and the fading light _

_ Oh we were bound to get together _

_ Bound to get together _

 

Connor stepped in sync with the dancers. Each step was more energetic than the last. Their arms lifted up as they pivoted on their heels. One man did a series of back handspring a few feet from Hank’s chair. The dance had now grown a crowd and onlookers were frantically pulling out their phones to record this flash mob. Uncaring of the crowd, Connor spun on his toes and extended his long arms in time with the music. Every second he danced, he watched Hank with his big, expressive, brown eyes. He yanked his tie off and tossed it towards Hank, then grabbed the arm of the woman next to him and dipped her as everyone else held the same pose.

 

_ She took my arm _

_ I don't know how it happened _

_ We took the floor and she said _

 

His thirium pump was going crazy. When he researched this, he wasn’t sure Hank would be amiable to this. After all, the detective’s usual demeanor suggested he wouldn’t like such public displays of affection. But he reacted well to the note on his lawn, Connor was sure. He knew it because he sampled the sweat off of the robe he was wearing. It had contained androstadienone, a hormone usually released when someone was feeling attraction. Not only that, he ached to dance with the older man. Maybe when he saw how well the android could move, he would want to hold him. He just had to go bigger. Hank would notice him if he just went bigger. And now, Hank was here, watching him, noticing him. This was it.  _ This was it! _

 

_ She said oh oh oh _

_ Shut up and dance with me _

 

The song was nearly over. Connor brought his arms to his chest, hands still holding the pinwheel, and stepped out of the dance to twirl gracefully over to Hank.

 

_ Oh oh oh shut up dance with me _

_ Oh oh oh shut up dance with me _

 

On the last line, Connor took a running start and slid on the ground and stopped mere inches from the older man’s knees. As the last notes rang out, his final pose had the android on his knees in front of Hank, his left arm behind himself, fingers splayed, and his right arm held up an offering in the form of a pinwheel. The rest of the dancers finished in a similar pose, albeit still on their feet, and much farther away from Hank. His cooling system had gone into overdrive, and Connor found himself panting as he put himself on display. A moment passed, and Connor’s bright smile faltered slightly. His LED went from a pulsing blue to a worried yellow.

“Hank?” He asked gingerly, letting the pinwheel fall slightly. “Say something.  _ Please.”  _

The lieutenant brushed a hand over his mouth, the other hand gripped his thigh tightly. Connor dropped his pinwheel along with his smile, and looked up at Hank with sad eyes. He didn’t have to analyze Hank to know he was angry. The deep scarlet of his cheeks and the rough panting was all the evidence the android needed. He hated this. He hated  _ Connor. _

“I-” Hank said slowly through gritted teeth. “Have never been more embarrassed in my entire life, Connor. That was- that was-” He cut himself off and shook his head. Hank stood up and turned his back towards the android.

Connor rested still on the back of his calves, looking up at Hank, utterly defeated. His hands curled into fists on his lap. 

“Go. Just go. I don’t want to see you back at my place. I need to think. Jesus  _ fuck.  _ Just…” Hank shook his head and slowly walked away, leaving Connor to watch until the detective turned a corner and disappeared.  _ yellowyellowred _ .

The crowd shifted. Some of them tried to console Connor, some onlookers laughed at their phones as they replayed the scene, but most people just left the heartbroken android to stare at the spot where he last saw Hank. There was nothing to be done, he was rejected by the man that meant the most to him. He put himself out there, on display in front of everyone, and Hank turned him down.

But why? He did everything right! According to his research, that should have been the one. Should he have chased the detective down in an airport? No, he wasn’t going on a flight anytime soon and Connor couldn’t wait. Should he have proposed? No, it was too soon. That was too grand of a gesture. Should he have hired a band? Were the speakers not enough? No matter how many scenarios Connor preconstructed, it wasn’t enough. His mission had failed.

Connor sat there, unmoving for a long time. The bright sun had set without him knowing. All the poor android could focus on was the corner that Hank had turned into. The crowd seemed to disappear as the sky turned dark, but it went unnoticed by him. It wasn’t until the telltale wetness hitting his cheeks and shoulders told him that he had been sitting there for hours, and it had begun to rain. Though he’d rather stay and review the evidence to determine where he went wrong, he knew he had to get out of the rain. He stood slowly, the joints of his knees and hips creaked uncharacteristically, and he began to walk in the direction of home. His feet stopped abruptly.

_ I don’t want to see you back at my place. _

He had nowhere to go. Hank didn’t want him home, didn’t want him, so what was he going to do? The android stood for a few moments as he surveyed his choices, the rain picking up as he continued to ignore shelter. He wanted to focus, to find a solution, but something kept pulling him away from self-preservation.

Why?

Why did Hank turn him down? He was obviously attracted to Connor, or at least his secret admirer, so why did he refuse to reciprocate? Unless maybe it wasn’t the person, but the situation. That would make sense. Maybe Connor had completely misjudged Hank’s reactions to the last attempts. Hank liked the words, liked the feeling of catching someone’s eye. But thinking back to how he had found Hank yanking the pinwheels from the lawn and grumbling about the neighbors made him think that displays like this cause him discomfort.

“Shit. I should have known public displays were not ideal.” Connor realized.

It made so much sense. Hank was such a private person. He had let his feelings and his research cloud his judgement. All Connor had wanted was for Hank to feel the same joy and sense of belonging that he received every day in the detective’s presence. Connor, however, does not get embarrassed, and that bias took over all of his preconstructions. 

The LED spun and pulsed as he quickly updated the parameters of his mission. New options appeared in his view as he processed the new flood of information. He could still complete his objectives.

His eyes grew wide as he took off like a rocket down the sidewalk. He still had a chance to fix this.

 

The rain had turned into a downpour by the time Connor had made it to Hank’s home. His jacket was soaked through and his damp shirt clung to his chest as he made his way passed the gate and into the detective’s side yard. It had to be private, this wouldn’t work in his front yard, in front of his neighbors. He wasn’t willing to take the chance that someone might be awake to spy on his last ditch attempt to woo an angry and private man. Through the window the android could see Hank sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in one hand and Connor’s red tie wrapped around the other. The older man’s face was resolute and tired, as if he was living with a difficult decision. Connor watched as he took a sip of whiskey and pursed his lips and his thumb rubbed against the silky fabric. Connor’s breath left him. Hank was beautiful.

Connor pulled the mini speaker from the bag he was holding. He had just enough processing power to purchase it at an electronics store on the way home, and hope it had enough battery to play one song. He only had one chance at this, and nothing could go wrong.  _ Yellowblueyellow.  _ He held up the little speaker to the window and began to play the song.

 

_ You might been hurt, babe _

_ That ain't no lie _

_ You've seen them all come and go, oh _

 

“Hank!” Connor called to the window. The water droplets fell from the android’s nose as he waited for the man to notice him. When he didn’t, Connor increased the volume. Not enough to wake his neighbors, but enough to get his attention.

 

_ Every little thing I do _

_ Never seems enough for you _

_ You don't want to lose it again _

_ But I'm not like them _

_ Baby, when you finally _

_ Get to love somebody _

_ Guess what _

_ It's gonna be me _

 

This time, Hank heard it. His eyes got wide and he pursed his lips in panic. Dropping the glass, Hank frantically rushed to the window and opened it. Without a moment’s pause, Connor turned off the song and set the waterlogged speaker on the ground. It had done its job.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, speaking up over the sound of the rain beating against the house. “What was that?”

“That was It’s Gonna Be Me. It was the most popular love song of 2000.” Connor looked into the window and kept his hands at his sides.

“I know that, you plastic- Jesus,  _ why  _ are you playing an N’Sync song at my window?” Connor opened his mouth to speak before Hank yelled again. “Don’t move. Don’t fucking move.” And he disappeared from view.

Connor waited. The rain didn’t bother him, but this feeling in his gut did. It felt like his insides were getting compacted. A quick scan told him they were all in the place they should be, so what was it? He looked at the empty window again. Dread. It was dread.

The wooden door creaked beside him. Hank was standing there, holding an umbrella, looking at him as if he we unsure how to proceed.

“Hank, I’m sorry. I-”

“Why did you do all this?” Hank stepped closer to him, but not quite bringing the android underneath the comfort of the umbrella. His voice was softer than Connor expected. “Why go through all this trouble? The roses, my lawn, that fucking dancing, you gotta know I’d hate all that.”

Connor shook his head. Rivulets of water sprayed everywhere. He brought his hand up to run his fingers back through his soaked hair. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Hank. These feelings, they don’t have words. I don’t know how to express them. I… I downloaded romantic comedies from your youth in hopes that I could find the answer in there. I thought it was working, that-” He cut himself off and shrugged. 

He stared at Hank’s expression with wide, pleading eyes. The thirium pump was beating faster, his breath came quick. 

Hank softened and smiled. “Connor, that’s-” He put his hand on his face and his shoulders began to shake.

Connor’s artificial stomach metaphorically hit the floor. He had failed again. Hank didn’t love him. Not only did he lose his romantic partner, he lost his friend, the only man who stood by him and treated him with respect and patience. He braced himself for the onslaught of vile hatred that was sure to come. He would rather be decommissioned than hear Hank tell him to leave one more time. If he could cry right them, he might have.

A sound escaped the detective’s lips. It was a choked sound.

Another one.

Soon, Hank couldn’t contain it anymore and his hand fell away and clutched his knee and he doubled over laughing. The man took large breaths in between the huffed guffaw that he couldn’t seem to control. Connor watched this display and he could feel thirium rise in his face, increasing the temperature and tinting his cheeks a pale blue. Still, he said nothing as Hank regained composure and wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand.

“Connor, oh my god, that is the  _ stupidest  _ fucking thing I ever heard. That shit is fake! Didn’t you read anything about how those fucking tropes set up bad expectations for people? Most of that shit is stalkerish and illegal! And you, you just…” He trailed off when he saw Connor’s face. Still soaked through, Connor was still staring at him with stoic eyes, the LED glowed a vibrant red. Suddenly, Hank’s smile disappeared and was replaced by a softer look of compassion.

“But Hank, you said-” He caught himself. Hank did not point to that scene in the first movie. He internally cursed as he realized that even  _ that  _ part of all of this he had gotten wrong. There were no hints, no secret to uncover. Hank would never be that opaque. It was all Connor. Every single thing he did for months was because he wanted to be close to this man  _ so badly.  _ How could he have not seen that?

“You dummy. I’ve been helping you figure all the deviancy shit out, you could have talked.  _ We  _ could have talked.” He paused and wiped his beard, his bright blue eyes boring into Connor’s face. “ I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought about you too. Fucking androids, always thinking their better than humans. We’ve got a little more experience with this, alright?!”

Connor shrugged again, all confidence lost. His future was in Hank’s hands now. “I don’t know what to do, Hank. I’m standing here, asking if you love me as much as I love you.” A beat. “You make me want to be a better man, Hank.” Rain battered his face and dripped to the ground. He tried not to think of the parallels between how he was feeling and the direction of the falling water.

Connor watched as Hank eyed him. The detective bit his bottom lip and took a few steps toward him, closing the gap between the two. Connor took a chance and reached for the man’s free hand again. This time, there was no sudden movement, no coffee to choke on. He watched Hank’s eyes as he placed the rough palm on his cheek and felt the warmth cutting through the chill of the rain. He smiled, and Hank’s expression quickly turned to the same. A quick scan showed Hank’s heartbeat increase with the touch. Hank wanted this, wanted  _ him. _

“Aw, hell, Connor. You had me at hello.” 

Connor raised himself onto his toes and leaned into Hank. He closed his eyes just as his lips brushed against the older man’s. The rush was unlike anything he ever felt. His entire body felt it was on fire, Hank’s mouth was the gasoline. Wrapping his hands around Hank’s neck, he realized he never wanted this moment to end. It was as it should be. It was perfect.

The floodlight shown above them and bathed them in a warm spotlight as the rain poured down. As they kissed, Hank discarded the umbrella in favor of wrapping his arms around his new love. 

Mission Successful. 


End file.
